Badger to the Bone (Honey Badger Chronicles #3) - Shelly Laurenston Page 0,50
thing against hybrids and she wasn’t a fan of the Van Holtz wolves that ran the organization. And she didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would change her mind about anything.
“Who do you work for?” Dez asked and she immediately felt the tension in the room go up ten clicks. But the lion male simply rolled with it.
“We work for a new organization. A sort of offshoot of BPC, Katzenhaus, and the Group. Our work is . . . very specific, though.”
“Does your group have a name?”
“I’m sure we do. But you don’t need to worry about that. At least not at the moment. I just need you to provide what I’ve requested. I’ve been told you’re the one woman who can make things happen.”
Oh, Christ, this guy.
“I can,” Dez replied. “But what about the no-knock warrants you’ll need? Those I can’t get you. I can, however, call our D.A. She’s a coyote. Among the full-humans her nickname is ‘Rabid She-Demon.’”
His smile was blatantly insincere. “No need to call the rabid she-demon. We’ll take care of any necessary paperwork.”
“You’ll take care of the warrants?”
“Uh-huh. Any other questions?”
“Well—”
“Great! So we’re good?”
Dez glanced over at Imani. Was she really okay with this? But, again, she got back that tiny, imperceptible nod from Imani. She clearly wanted this to move forward, which confused Dez even more. Before Imani’s retirement, Dez had worked several cases with her and Imani was almost Marine-like in the way she ran her operations. As a former dog handler in the Marine Corps herself, Dez had quickly grown to trust Imani’s judgments and decisions. But she didn’t trust these . . . males. Not yet anyway.
However . . . Imani was here and Dez still trusted her.
So, with a resigned sigh, she said, “Okay. Just give me dates and times and I’ll make sure the teams are ready to go.”
The lion smiled but this time it wasn’t forced. As far as he was concerned, he’d gotten his way.
chapter NINE
“I thought we were here to get me clothes,” Zé complained when Nelle strutted by in her fifth ball gown.
“I know,” Max sighed. “But I forgot how she likes to shop for herself first.”
“I’m not going to want anything from here. I’m not really a designer kind of guy.”
“And I’m not a designer kind of girl. So I get it.”
Nelle spun in front of them. “Thoughts? Concerns? Opinions?”
“No,” they both said at the same time.
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why I bother.”
“Neither do we,” Max informed her friend. “Can we just get him clothes? Please.”
“Fine.” Nelle motioned to a sales person. “I’ll take this. And we need clothes for this gentleman.”
“I’m not wearing clothes from here.”
“Why not?”
“One reason: I’m not European. And I feel like you have to be European to shop here.”
“He has a point,” Max muttered.
“And two . . .” He pointed at the gown Nelle wore. “I’m not shopping any place that charges thirteen thousand dollars for a fucking dress.”
Max’s head snapped around. “How much?”
“Didn’t you hear the sales guy? He said thirteen thousand. I heard him. God heard him.”
Now she looked at her friend. “Nelle!”
“Oh, for the love of Ming the Merciless. Can we get over the drama about a few dollars?”
Nelle lifted her skirt with one hand and spun away to go change into her street clothes.
“Ming the Merciless?” Zé asked.
“It’s from Flash Gordon.”
“I know where it’s from. How does she?”
Max shrugged. “She’s a sci-fi fan. Even bad sci-fi.”
“There is absolutely nothing wrong with Flash Gordon.” Slowly she turned her head so that she could gawk at him. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“Okay,” Nelle said, standing in front of them, her street clothes back on. “Let’s go. I’ve already called ándre and he’s waiting for us.”
Before Zé could tell her “no” as calmly but as adamantly as possible, Max said, “We are not taking him to any store where a guy named Andre will get him clothes.”
“Why not? What’s wrong with the name Andre?”
“Let me ask you this first: Is there an accent on the E in Andre’s name?”
“No.” She cleared her throat. “It’s over the A.”
“Is he a DJ?” Max wanted to know. “Because that’s the only excuse I’ll accept.”
Zé laughed at that, ignoring the glare he received from Nelle.
“No. He’s not.”
“Then no, Nelle. No. We’re not going to any store where a guy named ándre will get him clothes.” Max stood. “Come on, cat. Let’s go someplace neither of us will feel uncomfortable buying clothes.”